


It Happens Every Day

by oncethrown



Series: Beautiful Walking Out The Door [1]
Category: Boy Meets World
Genre: F/M, I Should Have Gone Outside More When I Was Young, Love and Drama, M/M, Reposting One of My First Real Fics, So Much Angst Before the Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7491015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncethrown/pseuds/oncethrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I posted this on FF.net a thousand years ago, took it down and am reposting it. </p><p>When Topanga announced that she'd gotten an internship in New York, Cory had eventually come to accept this change. It helped to have Shawn and Eric packed and ready to move with them. But when Eric stumbles into a great apartment, that leaves Cory, Topanga and Shawn. And three's a crowd. </p><p>Love, Loss, Lies and Redemption. </p><p>Maybe forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shawn saw himself reflected in the dark coffee house window as he wiped it down before closing and wondered to himself if he looked like New Yorker now. After a couple months he’d finally given into Cory’s teasing and lost the goatee, but he wasn’t religious about shaving and his reflection was well stubbled. He’d grown his sideburns longer. He’d let his hair grow out a little. It still had a little bit of curl and hung just above the three new rings in his upper ear, still just a little tender.

He and Cory had gone out to the bar last week and gotten into this talk about things they never saw themselves doing. Cory had set out a list of countries that he couldn’t visit because of various issues involving bugs, undrinkable water, and people driving willy-nilly all over the wrong side of the road. Shawn had said he didn’t see himself with any piercings.

“Well, I wouldn’t get pierced because even if I didn’t get an infection that caused something to rot and fall off, Topanga would kill me,” Cory had laughed, “But you’re part of that whole, artsy-poetry-coffeeshop-indie whatever. You don’t have a single co-worker who can walk through a metal detector.”

“Artsy-poetry-coffeeshop-indie whatever?” Shawn laughed back, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Shawnie, it means you,” Cory gulped his pear flavored cider, “You of the shaggy hair and the tight T-shirt and the general aura of being unkempt. You of the bookshelf full of small volumes of poetry, jazz and R&B albums, and little black books full of your own poems. You of the artsy posters on the wall and the Saturday morning ice-mocha. You of the living on my couch.”

“I’m unkempt?” Shawn had answered back, “Look at you!”

Unkempt wasn’t really the word, but Cory had most decidedly left his goofy Teen-America look behind him. He’d cut his hair so short you could couldn’t tell it curled. He had traded his collared shirts for button-downs and long sleeve T-shirts. In the last couple of weeks he’d grown a beard. He kept it pretty well trimmed, but it made him look completely different than the Cory he had used to be. He looked like a real live grown up. Topanga hated the beard, but in the last few months the list of things about Cory that Topanga hated had been growing longer.

“I’m not unkempt. I’m mature. I’m old. I’m an old married man,” Cory had griped, taking a deeper gulp of his cider.

For example, the one steel ring in Cory’s left earlobe was now on the list. Shawn and Cory had left the bar after each had finished their drink-Cory his usual, and Shawn his failed experiment with an unpronounceable beer- and decided to take a long route home and enjoy the slight autumn chill wafting through the warm city streets. On the way they just happened to have crossed a tattoo and piercing parlor. Teasing had turned to daring and both had left the parlor with wounds to show for it.

Topanga had been mad. She’d snapped at both of them when they’d walked in the door at 11 o’clock that night. She’d had gotten home at 8 o’clock to an empty apartment and cold leftovers.

“A note would have been nice,” she’d said, “Or maybe a call. I’d like to go out sometimes too, not everything has to be no-girls-allowed with you two.”

Then she’d seen Cory’s earring. She’d taken a deep breath, as though bracing herself to start yelling at the pair of them, but then she’d deflated and her voice had gotten quiet, dangerous.

“Well, well,” the words falling from her like stones, “You boys match. Cute.” She’d stormed into hers and Cory’s room, thrown a pair of Cory’s pajamas into the living room, and locked the door behind her. She wouldn’t even let either of them in to use the bathroom, which connected to the bedroom, but not the living room. Cory and Shawn had felt guilty as they pissed in the kitchen sink.

Shawn gave the window one last sprits of Windex and finished wiping down the last panel. He stepped back, gave his job well done a small moment of appreciation, and then returned his rag and his bottle of Windex to their proper places underneath the counter. He patted his pocket to make sure he had his keys and he turned to back to the window. He jumped back, hand to his heart.

Cory was standing in the window, his shoulders hunched up under his coat, his back pack straps over his shoulders and his hands in his pocket. He took one hand out and pointed toward the door. Shawn loped across the floor and over to the door, unlocked it and pulled it open. A gust of icy air followed Cory into the snug, cozy coffee shop.

“You know, I’m starting to really like this beard,” Cory said, pulling his back pack off, “It keeps my face warm.”

“Damn. It didn’t look like it was going to be that cold when I left this morning. I didn’t bring my coat.”

Cory unzipped the back pack and reached a hand in, “Ta-da” he pulled Shawn’s coat out and tossed it to him.

“What are you doing here Cor?”

“You wanna catch a movie?” Cory said.

“It’s almost midnight,” Shawn said suspiciously.

“Yeah. At that place near where Eric used to work they play old movies all night,” Cory looked expectantly at Shawn, “Come on, put on your coat!”

“Cor, is everything okay?” Shawn asked, setting the coat down on one of the plump, orange armchairs.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” Cory said getting half way through a dismissive waving gesture before catching the not-buying-it look that Shawn was leveling on him.

“Topanga and I got into a fight,” Cory bit his lip, “I left.”

“Wanna talk?” Shawn asked.

“Nah, it’s-“ Cory started with the same gesture, before being interrupted by the same look from Shawn. Cory let out a small scoff.

“Why yes Shawn. I would in fact enjoy discussing this further.”

Shawn gestured Cory to the overstuffed purple couch near the counter.

“Hot chocolate?” Shawn asked.

“Marshmallows?” Cory asked.

“No,” Shawn answered.

“Sure.”

Shawn began making two hot chocolates as Cory pulled off his coat and settled himself onto half of the huge couch.

“So… what happened?” Shawn asked as he swirled a big pile of whip cream on top of Cory’s hot chocolate. He added a crème cookie and a sprinkle of cocoa on it too, because he knew how much Cory liked it. He left his own hot chocolate plain.

It turned out the fight had been about all the same things, but had been a little bigger than usual. A snippy comment about why Cory hadn’t had the dishes done already had moved onto a bigger fight about how they’d been in New York for nearly 7 months and Cory still hadn’t been able to get a job. His defense that the economy was bad, and that the two jobs he’d lost hadn’t been his fault (like when Mrs. Warren had decided that she didn’t need an assistant after all, and when the restaurant that had hired him had failed its health inspection) had only made her angrier and that’s when she started attacking Shawn.

When Cory, Topanga, Shawn and Eric had all set out for New York they had planned to all help each other out. Cory and Topanga had already found an apartment and Topanga already had a job. Shawn and Eric were going to stay with Cory and Topanga and once they had jobs, Shawn and Eric were going to move in together. It was a good plan, based on love and sharing and community and Eric had thrown a kink in it by turning out to born for New York.

Their first night in the city he had gone out to grab a pre-bedtime snack at the deli across the street. There he had met a beautiful girl, an actress, and had gone home with her. By the end of the week he’d moved in with a wealthy photographer friend of hers, who hadn’t needed a roommate so much as a plant-waterer/ fish-feeder/ apartment sitter to take care of the place while he was on his frequent long trips abroad. Eric was essentially living in a huge, beautiful apartment, in a chic neighborhood, on a pay-as-you-can basis. Shawn was sure that the universe saved up little things like this for Eric on occasion because even God had a sense of comic narrative.

But with Eric gone, three had become a crowd. The ideal living arrangement for a husband and wife did not include the husband’s best friend sleeping on the couch. But it was sort of the way it had worked out. Cory hadn’t been able to find a job, Shawn had. Topanga paid half of the rent, Shawn paid the other half and for a while that had been fine. But as months dragged on, Topanga had begun to be bothered by the Cory-and-Shawness of the arrangement.

Unlike Cory and Topanga, Cory-and-Shawn (and the way Topanga used this phrase you could hear the hyphens slide into place) easily functioned as one cohesive unit: Shawn paid Cory’s rent, Cory did Shawn’s chores. Cory actually did all of the chores, but while Cory-and-Shawn agreed on a certain level of cleanliness, Topanga would take it upon herself to wipe out the microwave whenever it wasn’t clean enough for her, or wash all of the blankets in the living room.

On the days that Shawn got home from work at six, Cory had dinner on the table. On the days that Shawn got home past mid-night, Cory had leftovers in the fridge. When Topanga got home at six, Cory had dinner on the table for all of them, but if she got home at three o’clock Cory might not even be there, if she didn’t get home until 8 Cory-and-Shawn had already eaten. If Topanga didn’t get home until 11:00 or later, Cory-and-Shawn may have even started on the leftovers.

Cory did his and Shawn’s laundry. He’d started out splitting all the apartment laundry into the recognized categories- colors, darks and whites- but after a couple of Topanga’s delicate blouses had gotten shredded at the Laundromat, laundry had been divided into two categories- Topanga’s and Cory-and-Shawn’s.

The difficulties of this over-hyphenated lifestyle weren’t really anyone’s fault, but they were getting oppressive to Topanga, the only one who was both working and in school, who worked inconsistent, but usually long hours. She was beginning to feel that trying to connect with her husband required battling her way across this moat of Cory-and-Shawness. And she was too tired to keep doing it every day.

“She thinks that you and I are closer than she and I,” Cory said, gulping down the last of his hot chocolate.

“That’s ridiculous,” Shawn scoffed, “We’ve all known each other our whole lives, you’ve known me for maybe a couple of months before you knew her, and we could barely talk. If she wants to catch up on things that you and I did before she came along she could push you down in the sand box a couple times. That would pretty much cover it.”

Cory cast a glance toward Shawn’s mug and Shawn was already handing it toward him as Cory began to ask is he was going to finish it. The moment hung in the air.

“She’s stressed out,” Cory said eventually, staring into his cocoa the way one stares into a crystal ball, expecting answers for the inexplicable, “Her internship isn’t what she expected, New York isn’t what she expected. _I’m_ not what she expected.”

“Cor…”

“It’s frustrating to not be able to take care of her. I mean she takes care of me, you take care of me, and I play house and do stupid things that piss her off more.”

“Look Cor, let’s go home. You and Topanga can make up, I’ll grab some stuff and stay with Eric for a couple of days.”

“Shawnie, you know Topanga’s…. never asked me to choose…. between you and her,” Cory started, slowly.

“Well, yeah,” Shawn said carefully, “We’re best friends. She knows better than that.”

Cory continued to stare, unblinking, into his hot cocoa, “She did tonight Shawn. She’d said she can’t live on the outside of the Cory-and-Shawn clubhouse anymore, and that she’s sick of competing for her husband, and if you aren’t out of our place by Friday then I’m welcome to marry you, because she’s leaving.”

Both young men sat on the couch in silence. Cory finally looked up at Shawn, who was staring out of the window he’d just cleaned.

“She said a lot of things like “latent desires” and “emotional cheating” and “live-in mistress”,” Cory said eyes still downward, “She’s serious. I think she’d really leave.”

“Oh.” Shawn managed. All of those things had very… specific… connotations, “Cory, that makes it sound like she thinks we’re-“

“I told her that… I’d tell you,” Cory kept going, “I told her that I’d ask you to go.”

“Oh.”

Cory’s cell-phone went off.

“It’s her,” he said to Shawn before he picked up.

“Cory?” Shawn could hear Topanga’s voice on through the speaker. It was hoarse and throaty as though she had been crying and was determined not to cry again while she was on the phone.

“Hi honey,” Cory answered.

“Are you coming home tonight?” Topanga asked him.

Cory sighed, glanced at Shawn and answered, “Yeah. I am. I was just, um, figuring things out.”

“Okay. Were you going to come home soon? I mean, if you need time, then you know, take it, but I’m… worried about you wandering around the city alone at night.”

“No I’m okay. I’m inside.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m-“ Cory said and then stopped. Shawn looked at him.

“Cory, where are you?”

“I’m getting a cup of cocoa.”

“Are you with Shawn?” Topanga’s tone changed in that one sentence from upset and conciliatory to angry and hollow.

“Um,” Cory answered, “Yes? We’re at his coffee shop, he’s just closing up. I’m on my way home now.”

“Jesus, Cory,” Topanga exhaled, and Shawn could hear the tears in her voice now, “What the hell do I have to- I can’t do this! No matter… what I say to you, what I ask you for. I just- goddamnit Cory!”

“No, Topanga, I was telling him, I was… Topanga? Topanga!” Cory slammed his phone shut and stared at it in bewilderment, “She hung up.”

It was about a 15 minute walk from the apartment to the coffee shop. Cory and Shawn made it back in less than 10. Topanga was gone when they burst in. Cory ran into the bedroom and rifled through his and Topanga’s makeshift closet, through Topanga’s drawers, through the bathroom.

“Her suitcase is gone, her shower stuff,” Cory panted, “I think some of her clothes.”

Cory pulled his phone out of his pocket and Shawn went to the far corner of the kitchen/living room and perched on the counter, as far away from Cory as he could get as Cory got Topanga’s answering machine, hung up and called her again. And again. And, collapsing into the arm chair, one last time. There was still no answer and Shawn tried not to listen, or move, or _breath_ as Cory left Topanga a message in tones of pure desperation, punctuated in anxiety with the slightest note of heartbreak.

“Topanga, it’s Cory, okay, it’s Cory. I’m at home, I came back, I… I need to talk to you. I really need to talk to you. Please call me, please tell me where you are, please, just, call me okay? Let me know. I… I love you. Bye.” Cory hung up and let the phone fall to the floor as he dropped his face into his hands. Shawn pulled his legs into his chest and set his chin on his knees. He waited for Cory to say something, or to cry, or to call again, but Cory just sat with his face in his hands, silent, still.

Shawn sat on the kitchen counter taking up as little space as possible and waited for Cory to move. 5 muscle atrophying minutes went by before Shawn slid down to the floor. Cory looked up at him with terrorized eyes.

“I should go,” Shawn said miserably.

“No,” Cory said wiping his hands down his face as he stood up, “Wait, don’t leave. Come on Shawn.”

“Cory, this is my fault, I’ll go to Eric’s. I shouldn’t be here if she comes back,” Shawn said heading toward the door. Cory rushed to stop him.

“No, please Shawn,” Cory expelled a breath that sounded painful and pressed a hand to his face, “She’s not coming back tonight, okay?”

Shawn started reaching for the door handle and Cory swung his own arm out and grabbed Shawn’s hand on the door handle, “Please, Shawnie, she’s not coming back tonight. She’s not… and I don’t… “ Cory started to cry, “You can’t leave me here alone!”

 

Shawn shivered as Cory collapsed into his chest, one hand still squeezing Shawn’s against the door handle. Cory threw his other arm around Shawn’s neck and Shawn wrapped both his arms tightly around Cory’s back. Then, instinctually, the way one finds themselves planting a small peck on a sleeping child’s forehead without realizing it until they already have, Shawn brushed his lips against Cory’s temple and tightened his grip. Crushed between the door and Cory’s body, Shawn began to understand why Topanga had left.


	2. Chapter 2

When Cory had come back to himself Shawn tried to get him to lie down. Cory insisted he wouldn’t be able to sleep in his and Topanga’s bed because he’d just be waiting for her to come home all night, so Shawn popped in a DVD, and settled Cory into the armchair with a blanket. The opening scene hadn’t quite ended before Shawn heard Cory start to snore, softly.

Shawn worked at one the next day. He considered calling in to spend the day taking care of Cory, but really couldn’t afford to lose the money. And if Topanga came back, Shawn knew it he shouldn’t be there.

“You look absolutely awful, Shawn,” Margot, one of the other baristas, informed him after the last customer in the line had left the counter with her cranberry scone.

“I had a rough night,” He told her.

“What happened?” She asked. She grabbed a small paper cup and filled it from one of the percolaters.

“The married couple I live with? Had a huge blow up last night.”

“Ugh, that’s a nightmare.”

“Over me.”

“Whoa, what?” Margot demanded, “He doesn’t think you’re” she made a gesture and a strange sound effect to accompany it, “Bumping uglies with the old lady does he? The one with the weird name?”

“Topanga. No. It’s so weird. She said she thinks that I’m Cory’s live in mistress. She said he’s emotionally cheating on her. With me.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, because she’s always gone at her big important law firm gig and we hang out together without her I guess. She thinks that we’re like, this team the two of us, and we don’t want her to be a part of it.”

Margot “hmmm…ed” deeply and sipped her coffee.

“You know what I think though? I think she hates her job. I think she hates New York and I think she’s just making herself miserable and won’t admit to it because she can never be wrong about anything. Ever. When she called Cory last night and found out he was with me, she freaked out like she’d walked in on us fucking. It’s crazy.”

“Who walked in on you fucking?” John demanded as returned from his turn to clean out the bathroom and ducked back behind the counter. He was a little older than Shawn or Margot, and was probably who Cory had been referencing when he’d talked about the serious piercing of the artsy-poetry-coffeshop-indie-whatever crowd.

“No one,” Shawn sighed, “I’m just mired in this ridiculous relationship fight.”

“Oh no, did you and your boy get into a fight?” John gave him a sympathetic smile, “That Cory seems to just dote on you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” John gave Shawn a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and turned to ask a customer if what he could get for her. Margot gave Shawn a side long look and a suppressed grin. Shawn didn’t find it nearly as funny. But when he opened his mouth to correct him Margot put a hand on his arm, and Shawn let it go.

At three o’clock Shawn followed Margot out to the alley for her smoke break.

“So,” she said, languorously exhaling the first drag of her cigarette, “What could possibly have made John think that Cory is “your boy?”” she shot him another mocking sideways glance which Shawn returned coldly.

“I don’t know. Because _he’s_ gay?” Shawn ventured.

“I’m just saying Shawn, maybe you should think about how you present your relationship with your best friend. Cause it’s clearly in a way that puts co-workers you only sort of associate with, _and his wife_ , under the impression that you’re more than friends-“

“Look Margot,” Shawn cut in, “Cory and I, we’re really close okay? I get that it’s weird, and I get that I’m screwed up and maybe it is just a little bit co-dependent. Okay? Topanga understands that Cory is… that I don’t really have any family except for a brother who’s in Africa, and Cory. And I’ve always had Cory but we’re just friends, and I can’t believe that I even have to explain that! I mean… Jesus-“

“Shawn! Shawn,” Margot said her palms out toward him, waving his hackles down, “Chill man. I didn’t say that anything _was_ going on okay? I just said that maybe there is something that you are putting out there that is making people… suspect.”

“Give me a cigarette,” Shawn growled.

“No. Be nice to me,” Margot responded.

Shawn thrust the back of his head into the brick wall behind him, “Margot, will you please give me a cigarette?”

“Why yes as long as you asked so politely,” Margot said pulling a cigarette out of the faux snakeskin case she kept in her purse. She handed it to Shawn and held her lighter up for him.

He breathed deep, “Margot?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Yeah man,” she blew a smoke ring, “Since you asked so politely.”

 

***

Cory called at midnight to make sure that Shawn wasn’t dead. Topanga had called, just to tell him not to panic and call the police because she was okay and she was staying with a friend. Cory had demanded to know who and she had responded by asking if Shawn was in the apartment with him.

“So I told her that you hadn’t come home from work and she just said “okay” and told me that she had to go. And I think I heard a man’s voice in the background.”

“Maybe she’s staying with Eric,” Shawn suggested.

“Well, you know Eric. That’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“Are you on your way home?”

“Umm… no. I’m staying at Margot’s. From work?”

“Oh,” Cory said, “ _Oh_. Like, staying over… or like _staying over_?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shawn saw Margot take two wine glasses out of her cupboard.

“Just staying over. She and Jillian and I all came over to chill after work for a little while. I had my drink too fast on an empty stomach, I’d rather just stay here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then okay?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Shawn hung up and Margot handed him a glass of wine. White.

“Yeah. I know I lied to him,” Shawn sighed.

“Did I say anything?” Margot said sinking back into the other side of the couch, “Why _did_ you lie to him?” Margot asked.

“I don’t know,” Shawn sipped his wine, “I don’t want to be home if Topanga comes back, I don’t want to be caught in the middle of those two in a fight. They are both the most ungodly stubborn people I have ever met in my entire life.”

“I guess.”

“And I guess I don’t want him to feel like, I don’t want to be around him, you know?”

“I mean, it wasn’t even a good lie. He’d believe no problem that you were over here sexing up an available female co-worker and you invented another person and fake drunkenness,” She gave him that grin of hers, “We don’t even know a Jillian.”

“I wasn’t going to tell him that I’m having sex with you when I’m not. That’s scummy Margot.”

“True.” Margot nodded and sipped her wine.

“Have you slept with _anyone_ since you got to New York?” Margot inquired.

Shawn scoffed, “Pfff. Have I slept with anyone since I got to New York-”

Margot continued to look him in the eye over her wine glass, “Well. Have you?”

Shawn scoffed a couple more times and then quailed under Margot’s steady, skeptical gaze.

“No,” He admitted, “I haven’t.”

“Why not?” Margot asked.

“I don’t know,” Shawn told her, “It just hasn’t happened.”

“Shawn I’ve seen you with girls. You can turn on the charm when you need it. You charmed me when I first met you. If you wanted half the girls that come into the coffee shop, they’d be yours.”

“I sleep on a couch, Margot. That’ll kill a guy’s sex life.”

“I think you’d find a way around it. If you wanted to.”

“Margot? Before we all left for New York, I was trying to win back a girl who wanted nothing to do with me and I didn’t quite manage it okay? It’s been a very long time since… It’s been a long time. Trust me when I say - I want to.”

“But this couch sleeping thing is getting in your way?”

“I did the “guy-who-gets-all-the-girls” thing for years,” Shawn told her, agitatedly playing his fingers against the stem of his wine glass “I had a two-week rule. Then there was Angela. Now I’m looking for the right girl.”

“And who’s the right girl?”

“I don’t know. Someone, fun. Loyal, compassionate. The kind of girl who cares about her friends. Someone I can talk to about stuff. Someone who will talk to me about stuff.”

“And these types of girls are terribly hard to come by?”

  
“I don’t know. It’s not that easy."

“Maybe you just aren’t interested in dating right now. Maybe you’re happy with what you have.”

Shawn shrugged and sipped his wine, “I don’t know. “Happy” isn’t the kind of thing that falls into my lap.”

“If happiness falls into any man’s lap he should count himself blessed,” Margot said, as though it was something she’d been told many times and was repeating without realizing it. “Or woman,” she added, “It’s what we’re all searching for.”

The two of them sat quietly for a little while, pursuing separate thoughts until Margot yawned.

“I should go to bed. I’ll go grab you some blankets,” She went to the front closet and pulled out a stack of violently pink blankets and handed them to Shawn, who looked at her questioningly. Margot didn’t seem like a violently pink person.

“They were my little sisters.” Margot explained with a shrug.

“Oh, sure,” Shawn said looking down at them. He made a decision.

“So, could I see what color your blankets are?” He asked quietly, in a voice he’d used a thousand times. A voice that did not fail.

Margot gave him a sad sort of smile and swatted him gently on the cheek, “Shawn… you don’t actually want me.”

Shawn cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“But,” Margot sighed, then leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, “That is exactly the kind of charm I was talking about.”

Margot smiled at him and left him alone in the living room. He spread the blankets over the couch and wrapped himself up in them. They had a strange, soft fruity smell to them. Apples maybe. Just as he was starting to drift off he reached one arm out to the coffee table and touched his fingers to his cell phone. To make sure he could reach it if Cory called.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Shawn woke up slowly, noticing bit by bit how the light was a little too bright, how his clothes were a little uncomfortable, how the blankets were a little too warm. He threw them off and caught a wave of apple scent.

Right, he thought, I stayed at Margot’s last night. He rolled over. My best friend told me he was going to kick me out of his apartment, so I stayed here instead.

My mouth feels gross, I should not have had a cigarette yesterday. Or a glass of wine before bed without brushing my teeth.

Oh, no. I came on to Margot last night.

He blinked his eyes open and raised himself up on his elbows. He’d forgotten how hot pink his borrowed blankets were.

“Morning, Casanova,” Margot greeted him.

Margot was sitting at the kitchen counter with a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice, “You want some?” she asked indicating both.

Shawn rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Yeah,” Shawn pulled himself off the couch and stretched. He had a hell of a kink in his neck “Do you have anything to go on that toast?”

“Butter, Jam, peanut butter. It’s all in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

Shawn pulled a jar of jam out of the fridge and slotted a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster.

“Hey, Listen Margot, I’m uh… sorry about last night.”

“Oh! You mean last night when you came onto me?” she smiled.

“Yeah. That.” Shawn blushed.

“Don’t worry about it. You had a shitty day. Sorry I shot you down.” she shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shawn laughed and grabbed a kitchen stool across from Margaret, asked if he could see the World News section and the two of them sat in comfortable silence except for the munching of toast and clinking of glasses against the counter top.

“I really should go,” Shawn said eventually, “Check on Cory. Maybe grab some stuff from home. I’m thinking longingly of brushing my teeth.”

“Kay,” Margaret said without looking up from her newspaper, “See you at work?”

“Unless something terrible happens to me en route,” Shawn sighed, gathering up his wallet and keys and phone, “Hey, I might need a place to stay again tonight. Would it be alright-”

“Yeah. If you need to.”

“Thanks, Margot,” Shawn said as he pulled on his coat and started out the door.

“Oh, Shawn,” Margot called. Shawn popped his head back in the door.

“They’re orange.”

“What?”

“My blankets are orange and my sheets are a chocolatey sort of brown. It’s a whole autumn thing.”

“Oh. Well. Now I know,” Shawn responded.

“Bye, Shawn.”

“Bye, Margot.”

***

Shawn stood in front of his door and took a breath before he reached out and grabbed the handle. That was weird. It was locked. Where would Cory be at 10:30 in the morning? Shawn dug his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocked the door and walked in.

His blankets were folded up at the edge of the couch. All of the shades were pulled up. Shawn tossed his coat onto his couch.

“Shawn?”

Shawn jumped up a straight foot in the air and spun around. Topanga was standing in the kitchen.

“Topanga?” Shawn startled, “The door was locked. I didn’t think anyone was home.”

“Surprise,” Topanga shrugged. She was in the kitchen leaning against the sink, wearing jeans and thick red sweater. She had a cereal bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“Ummm… how are you?” Shawn asked awkwardly trying to find something to do with his hands.

“Fine,” Topanga responded with an intimidating nonchalance, “How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m…” Shawn stammered, “I’m… uh. Good.”

“You just got back?” Topanga asked, “Where did you sleep last night?”

“A friend from work. Margot,” Shawn replied, “How about you?”

“A friend from work. Dean.” Topanga echoed.

“Oh.” Shawn replied.

“Did you sleep with her?” Topanga asked.

“Why is everyone suddenly so enthralled with my sex life?” Shawn wondered aloud, “No, I didn’t sleep with Margot. Did you sleep with Dean?”

“No,” Topanga replied. She turned to the sink and rinsed her bowl, “But I let him kiss me. Twice. So much for forsaking all others.”

Red flags started flying all over Shawn’s brain. This was way worse than he’d thought, “Where is Cory?”

“Do you know how long it is since Cory and I have had sex, Shawn?” Topanga asked still facing the sink.

The answer was “Yes, not for a couple months because you get home so late and he thinks you’re always mad at him.” But Shawn wasn’t going to admit it.

“I don’t think that’s any of my business, Topanga,” Shawn replied.

“Months, Shawn. Not since July,” Topanga told him. Her voice was empty. She didn’t sound angry. She didn’t sound sad. She was almost deadpan, “I get home and he’s out with you, I get home and he’s _here_ with you. _We’re_ in bed and he’s talking to _me_ about what the _two of you_ have been up to all day,” She turned back to face Shawn, “He hasn’t kissed me in a week. Not when I leave in the morning, not when I get home at night. If he’s even awake. He doesn’t even seem interested, Shawn. Tell me why that might be?”

Shawn edged from the back of the couch to the arm and sat down, “Look, Topanga, Cory’s...uh,” Shawn tried to figure out what to tell her, “He’s depressed. You know how Cory doesn’t do well with change. He left his home and now he’s not doing that well in a big new place. He feels… insufficient.”

“Insufficient how?” Topanga demanded.

“He can’t land a job, Topanga,” Shawn, shocked that she didn’t realize how important that was, “He can’t take care of you. He feels like a failure. You’re a breadwinner, I’m a breadwinner, and he stays home doing our laundry and cooking our meals.”

“Your laundry, Shawn. Your meals,” Topanga ejaculated, “You’re _his_ breadwinner. He’s _your_ failure housewife.”

“Topanga, I don’t know what you me-“ Shawn started very carefully.

“Yes you do,” She cut him off. She raked a hand through her hair and sighed.

“Shawn, do you remember the wedding?”

Shawn was afraid to answer. He just nodded.

“Do you remember me telling you that I knew that you loved Cory more than I did?”

“Topanga-“

“You remember,” Topanga told him, crossing her arms in front of her, “I knew when I married Cory that you come with the package. Hell, you were there at the damn altar with me. You need him,” Topanga sucked in a deep, bracing breath, “What’s changed is how much he needs you. He needs you more than he needs me,” Her voice got throatier, “He wants you more than he wants me.”

“Topanga, Cory needs you, I don’t know what you think we’re doing, but we aren’t trying to hurt you, we aren’t trying to-“

“Of course you aren’t trying, Shawn,” Topanga said, her eyes shining, “You just do. It’s the way you two are. You two together have always been a “we”. I’m not blind. I can see it coming, and… and I don’t know what to do.”

“See what coming?” Shawn asked.

“Shawn, I need you to go away,” Topanga said quietly.

“Okay,” Shawn said, reaching out arm out behind him for his coat, “Okay, just let me-“

“No. Not now Shawn. I need you to go away,” tears trickled down her face, “but I can’t ask you to disappear,” Topanga’s voice broke, she set her face in her hands and started to sob.

She was crying so hard that she didn’t hear the door open. Shawn turned around to see Cory, bundled up against the cold and holding a small bag of groceries. Shawn watched Cory stare at Topanga as she continued.

“I can demand you move out, I can beg you to stay away, but you’re always going to be here and I… he’s only mine when you’re gone.”

“Topanga,” Cory wavered.

Topanga gasped and looked up, splotchy faced and red eyed. Cory swept across the apartment dropping the groceries as he did. He pulled Topanga into his arms, she tried to push him away and he gripped her tighter.

Shawn had to leave. Now. He had to go. He bolted off of the couch and went through Cory and Topanga’s room. He could still here both of them crying.

“Topanga… Topanga…” he heard Cory.

Shawn went into the bathroom. He closed the door. He grabbed a plastic bag from under the sink and started feverishly throwing his things into it. Tooth paste. Shaving cream. Tooth brush. Razor. Shampoo. Soap.

He went back out into the living room/ kitchen and went to the front closet where his clothes were kept. He pulled a hand full of shirts out, hangers and all, and threw them in the bag.

“Topanga, you’re… I am yours. You know I need-“

Shawn shoveled a pile of his boxers into the bag, grabbed a handful of socks and shoved them in. He shoved them in too hard. The bag ripped open and everything in it crashed to the floor.

Cory and Topanga turned to him, standing in the corner, his belongings spread out in front of his feet.

“Shawn,” Cory said hoarsely, Topanga’s face buried in his chest, “You need to go.”

Shawn nodded. Trembling, wretched, he stumbled back to the bathroom, and grabbed another plastic bag. He went back to the living room and with hands shaking so badly he nearly couldn’t manage it, he slowly, painfully scooped everything back into the bag. As Shawn collected his things on his knees he could hear Cory shushing Topanga’s sobs. He looked up to see Cory’s eyes on him. Their eyes stayed locked as Shawn stood. Cory was crying too now. Shawn quickly looked down, went to the couch, grabbed his coat and walked out the door without looking back, just able to hear Cory whispering “Shh, it’s alright babe.”

Shawn made it to the elevator before he collapsed. He walked in, tapped the ground floor button and felt his knees give out underneath him. His knees hit the elevator floor, and then his elbows. His stomach and throat began clenching as though he was going to throw up.

Alone. He was alone now. He was completely alone, in New York City. Cory had thrown him out. Cory had thrown him out. Topanga wanted him to, Topanga was going to tell Cory he couldn’t see Shawn anymore, he couldn’t… they couldn’t. Shawn remembered reading about places in the middle ages or whenever, where exile was considered a harsher punishment than death. This was why. Because when they were sent away from their homes they lost their families, their friends and their worlds. The only constant in Shawn’s entire life had just thrown him out on the street.

Shawn fought his way back to his feet, gulping in air, holding in the sobs trying to claw their way out. He had to make it somewhere safe now. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Margot.

“Hey Casanova!” She answered cheerfully, “You know. I think that’s what I’m going to start calling you. Just all the time.” She gave a little laugh, “What do you need?”

“Cory…” Shawn strained, “Cory kicked me out.”

There was a moment of dead air.

“What?” Margot demanded, shocked.

“Cory threw me out,” Shawn managed, “Can I come stay with you?”

“Yes, yes. Of course Shawn.”

“Thanks.” Shawn hung up.

It took Shawn half an hour to trudge to Margot’s apartment, his eyes swimming the entire way, the cold air making them painful.

Margot buzzed him in and opened the door at his first knock.

“God, Shawn,” She gasped when she saw him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him to the couch. Shawn felt her lift his bag out of his hands and grab them in her own. He couldn’t really feel them, “What happened?”

“Cory threw me out,” He repeated.

“Honey,” She wrapped her arm around him again and squeezed herself into him, like an enormous cat. Shawn cried, and then sobbed, and Margot stayed there, pressed against him, still and silent until he calmed back down.

“I’m gonna call the both of us in to work and make some lunch okay? Do you want anything to eat?”

“You don’t have to stay here with me.”

“Yeah. But I’m gonna. You want a sandwich? I can reheat some Chinese.”

“No.” Shawn said, “I’m not hungry.” He started to pull his arms mechanically out of his coat.

“Kay. I could make you a drink. I’ve got some sambuca.”

“No. Thanks.”

“Maybe later.”

“Maybe.”

“Tell you what, I’ll put on some hot water, and if you want a cup of tea after I’ve made myself some, I’ll dig a bag out for you.”

“Okay.”

Shawn sat still on the couch, staring listlessly at the blank TV screen. Margot pressed a big flowered mug into his hands and sat on the couch with him. She didn’t say anything. She just put her hand on his knee.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Shawn said eventually.

“What’s that hon?” Margot asked.

“You’re thinking that Topanga was right, and I’m acting like my marriage just ended.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking, Shawn.”

“Are you thinking about how you didn’t think men actually cried like this?”

“Nope.”

“What are you thinking?”

“You’re gonna get mad.”

“No I won’t.”

“I’m thinking that this is a terrible way for you to realize that you’re in love with him.”

“Oh”

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“No,” Shawn sipped his tea, “No,” he repeated.

Margot kissed him on the cheek, set her mug on the coffee table and curled up against Shawn again.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Margot couldn’t get Shawn to eat supper that night. She waved microwaved cream cheese wontons under his nose and made “yum” noises, but to no avail. He fell asleep at 7:00 o’ clock that night with his head in her lap while they watched Spiderman 2.

The next day Margot went in to work and left Shawn her keys. He sat on the couch watching daytime TV for most of the day, but eventually he scraped himself off the couch, changed out of the clothes he’d been wearing for two days, and went for a walk in the park. When it started to snow he ducked into a deli and ordered a cup of hot chocolate. The snow fell slowly to the sound of the Top 40 station playing over the clatter of dishes and a loud conversation about kidney stones being held by two old guys a couple of tables down from where Shawn sat. Shawn only made it about half way through his cocoa before he headed back to Margot’s to let her in when she got off work.

His phone was lying on the coffee table when he walked into the apartment. He had a missed call. From Cory. He dialed back before he even took his coat off in Margot’s roasting apartment.

“Hi, you’ve reached Cory Matthews, I’m sorry I missed your call but if you leave your name and number I’ll be sure to get back to you…. Shawn what button do I-”

Shawn hung up without leaving a message. Then he thought that maybe Cory just hadn’t been able to get to the phone in time and pulled it back out of his pocket to try again when Margot called. He buzzed her in.

“Hey,” She said breathlessly when she walked in, her cheeks bright red and snow starting to melt in her hair, “You look like you’ve been nipped in the nose a little bit. Did you get out today?”

“Yeah, I went to the park.”

“Oh good, Listen-“

“Cory called me.” Shawn held up his phone.

“Oh,” Margot looked up from the stuck button on her coat, “What did he say?”

“I just got the missed call. He didn’t leave a message and he didn’t pick up when I called back.”

“Uh oh. Well. Maybe he’ll call back later, right?”

“Right.”

“Listen, Agnes from work is having a birthday get together at Finnegan’s. You should come.”

“Oh,” Shawn started, “I don’t know.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“I shouldn’t. You told everyone I was sick, I don’t want them to… know.”

Margot looked at Shawn wan face and realized that she wasn’t going to win, “Okay, man. But tell you what? It’s only a couple of blocks away. You go the rest of the way up my block turn left and go a few blocks, I don’t know maybe three, and it’s right there. Maybe you’ll change your mind?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. I’m going to hop in the shower.”

Shawn took up his place on the couch and played with his phone. He checked to see if he had any texts, if maybe there had been a message after all and it hadn’t registered right away. He almost called back again, but decided that he probably shouldn’t in case Cory was with Topanga. Margot was playing music in the bathroom, something Shawn recognized but he didn’t know from where. After a while she came back out into the living room.

“How do I look?” She asked, spreading her arms.

“Um..” Shawn started, “Wow. Great. You look great.”

He’d never seen Margot dressed up. She’d flipped up her short hair, she was wearing coppery dangled earrings and several small plain rings. Shawn didn’t seem to have remembered ever seeing her with quite that much cleavage.

“Thanks,” Margot gathered up her coat, scarf, and purse from the coat rack near the front door. She came over to Shawn on the couch and put a hand on his cheek.

“I hope you decide to come. But if you don’t, promise me you’ll eat something?”

“I’ll try,” Shawn almost smiled.

“Good boy,” She kissed him on the forehead and started pulling on her coat, “I’m not even going to push something healthy. Have a bowl of ice cream, go down to the newsstand and buy a bag of gummi worms, just eat something.”

“Have a good time, Margot.”

“See you later.”

Shawn waited for the door to close all the way, and then called Cory again. When he still didn’t get an answer he left a terribly transparent message about just returning the call, then he plucked a book about 1970’s album cover art off of Margot’s shelves, flipped through the pictures for a little while and then fell asleep with his phone in his pocket.

 

***

Shawn woke up to his pants pocket vibrating and his ringer shrieking. He dug his phone out of his pocket before he even really woken up and flipped it open. It was just his weekend alarm. He usually worked the opening shift on Saturdays.

I didn’t hear Margot come in last night, he thought as he peeled himself sleepily off the couch. Her stuff wasn’t on the coat rack. Oh dear. It must have been a good party.

Shawn stumped to the bathroom. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror he almost went right back to the couch. He looked like hell. He was suddenly aware that he hadn’t showered in four days and that his last meal had been toast and orange juice for breakfast three days ago. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d shaved. Stubble was becoming beard.

But he also hadn’t been into work in three days. Trying not to calculate exactly how much money that meant he had lost, Shawn trudged back to the living room to get his sad modern Waltzing Matilda, still next to the couch where he’d dropped it when he showed up on Margot’s door. He pulled his razor and shaving cream out of it, realized that he wouldn’t have time to shave anyway and grabbed his soap and toothbrush instead.

When he stepped out of the shower he wiped the steam from the mirror and tried again. Better. His face was still furry and a little bit sunken, but at least he was clean. He pulled on a clean shirt, checked the clock and went to work, figuring that he’d try to choke down one of the day old scones when he got there.

 

***

Shawn got to the store to find that Agnes, who he usually opened with, had switched with John, probably as some sort of birthday favor. Normally this would have been fine, but John kept giving him pitying smiles, gripping his shoulders bracingly and asking him if he wanted “to talk about it.” Shawn decided the best path to take would be to just clench his jaw, take a deep breath and tell John, just a touch melodramatically that he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. This plan resulted in John letting him have one of the fresh scones, which he was doing his best to pick at.

“Did you go to Agnes’s thing last night?” Shawn eventually asked John.

“I was there for a little while, toward the end. I had a couple of things happening last night. It was okay.”

“Was Margot still there when you were there?”

“Yeah, she was all dressed up and flirting with this really cute guy.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Wait, Did little Margot not come home last night? Cause after all the times she’s been on my case about hickies, I’d love to have something to taunt her about when she gets here for the afternoon shift.”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t hear her come in, but I didn’t check her room or anything this morning” Shawn lied, Margot had definitely not been in her apartment last night.

John spent the rest of the morning trying to get Shawn to talk about either his relationship blow out, or Margot’s love life. Shawn finally gave in before his second break. In exchange for a couple of cigarette’s and the lend of a lighter Shawn told John that he was staying with Margot for a while, and that she had not come home last night.

He went out to the alley and found a place to lean comfortably out of the wind. He was about halfway through his cigarette when he heard feet crunching in the snow behind him. Maybe Margot had shown up for her shift after all.

“Hey, Shawnie.”

Shawn turned slowly around to see Cory standing in the alley, “The guy behind the counter said you were out here on break. He winked at me funny.”

“Yeah,” Shawn took a drag, “Well, that’s John.”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t. Really. Just, you know. Sometimes,” he dropped the butt on the ground and stomped it out, “What are you doing here Cory?”

“Umm… look, Shawnie, I’m sorry about the other day. When I said you should go I didn’t mean ‘and never come back,” Cory kicked at the snow in front of him, “I was worried you know. When you disappeared and I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“I’ve been staying with Margot. Sleeping on her couch for a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all you came here for? To apologize?”

“No.

“Cause seriously Cory, if you’re going to blame me for anything else, or tell me anything else that Topanga has blamed me for, I’m really going to need a couple more days to recover from last time.”

Cory looked hurt, Shawn tried not to feel bad, “Shawnie…”

“Stop calling me that.”

Now Cory looked half-heartbroken.

“Sorry,” Shawn added.

“Shawn, I’m not blaming you for anything. And I don’t think Topanga really is either. Look, could you please just, come home tonight?”

“I don’t know Cory. Is Topanga gonna get me thrown out again?”

“Topanga’s not going to be there,” Cory’s face worked for a second, “Please, just come home tonight okay?” Cory grabbed Shawn’s forearm just as the back door slammed.

“Oh,” it was Margot, “Umm, sorry guys, I’ll just… smoke out front,” she pulled her cigarette back out of her mouth and Cory and Shawn could hear John inside saying “Wait, what was going on out there?”

“Why isn’t Topanga going to be there?”

Cory clenched his jaw for a second before saying, with a little bit of a tremble in his voice, “Because we’re splitting up.”

“Because of me?” Shawn asked, his voice starting to strain too.

“No, Shawnie- Shawn. We just… Look, please come home tonight. Topanga and I spent a lot of the last couple days talking. Please Shawn?” Cory stopped staring at his own feet and looked up at Shawn, “I’ll tell you the whole story. I… I need my best friend right now,” Cory’s voice broke and Shawn pulled him into a tight hug.

“Yeah, man,” Shawn said, “I’ll come home. We’ll order some dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“When do you get off?” Cory asked.

“At three”

“Okay. “

“Okay.”

Cory hugged Shawn again and walked out of the alley. Shawn checked the time on his phone, realized he’d gone ten minutes over his break time and plodded back into work, not even surprised to find John and Margot trying to listen at the back door.


	5. Chapter 5

“Shh… it’s alright babe,” Cory cooed to Topanga with a hard lump in his throat as he watched Shawn flee the apartment, head down. Topanga sobbed into Cory’s chest just a little bit longer before taking herself by the rein - gathering what little self control she felt she had left.

“No, Cory,” Topanga said hoarsely, stepping away from Cory, “No it’s not. It’s all falling apart. Look at us! We’re a mess. This whole thing is a mess and we can’t even fix it.”

“What?” Cory demanded, fear in his voice, “What do you mean can’t fix it? We can fix it, we can fix anything. Tell me. Okay? Tell me how you want me to fix it. I’ll do it.”

Topanga wiped her nose on her sleeve, “No you won’t. You can’t. That’s the problem Cory! I’ve been asking you to get Shawn to move out for months Cory. Months! And you haven’t said boo to him, because you can’t bear to see him leave,” she told him shrilling her way up the scale as she got more upset.

“We can’t afford the rent without Shawn, Topanga,” Cory said, so frustratingly matter of fact.

“That’s not the reason, Cory. You won’t kick Shawn out because you need him here, you need him around, you can’t function without him.”

“Yeah, I know, because unlike me, Shawn has a job, Shawn can pay rent, Shawn can buy groceries,” Cory growled throwing his hands up in the air and turning away from Topanga.

“That’s not what I mean. You need him Cory, You need him!”

Cory spun back around, “You begged me to kick him out Topanga remember? You told me that you were sick of competing with Shawn for me, which you should know you never had to do and I told him that he had to move out. I kicked my best friend out onto the streets because you asked me to and then you ran off to some random guy’s apartment because I went to go break the news to him!”

“I told you that it was Shawn or me and you freaked the hell out and ran off to be with him! Like you always do. Whenever we have problems you go to Shawn. Well, guess what Cory? We have problems, you and Shawn are making them worse and I don’t think… I don’t think there’s anything we can do to save us anymore,” Topanga sniffed, “I’ve lost faith in us.”

Cory looked at her like she’d just pounded a fist through his chest and pulled back to leave a gaping hole.

“You’ve lost faith in us?”

“Yes Cory!” Topanga took in a gulp of air and steadied her voiced, realizing too late that it only made her sound angry, “I’m not blind. I’m not stupid. You and Shawn have always had this weird little relationship going on you know? And it’s not just years of naming your pets after each other, or the little nicknames. It’s this complete emotional dependence that you don’t have for anyone else!”

Cory grabbed her by the shoulders. It was easy to forget, under his goofy smiles and child-like habits that he was strong. His grip on Topanga was tight. He tried to pull her to him again, and she pushed away. He grabbed her by the forearms and squeezed, not hurting her, but unshakeable.

“Topanga-” He started.

“I see the way you touch him!” Topanga spat, “I see the way you look at him! I see you leaving me for him every day.”

“I’m going to leave you for Shawn?” Cory demanded, “Topanga have you gone completely insane?”

“All the time you spend _not_ sleeping with me _you spend with him_ ,” Topanga declared. It was a challenge. She tried to tug herself away from Cory again at the same moment that Cory released his grip on her. She tripped backwards but Cory caught her and pulled her back up to her feet. She over balanced and fell into him, pushing him back against the counter.

They were pressed together, shaking, breathing hard. Topanga looked up into Cory’s eyes. Cory took her face in his hands and kissed her, fiercely, ungently, with something to prove. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her body even more tightly against his and he slid his hands down her back under her legs. He picked her up bodily and dropped her on the counter, already trying to pull her sweater off, but it was tight, thick, and he abandoned it for the fly of her jeans, pulling them down around her ankles before she sat up. He muscled another kiss against her mouth, and she returned it, one hand soft on the back of his neck, but as he started to tug at his belt she stopped him and pressed his forehead to hers. There was a pause, a breath, before Cory kissed her again, carefully this time, and when he tried to another she turned her face away.

“Cory, I kissed someone else.”

Cory swore loudly and stomped away from her, she hopped unsteadily down to the linoleum floor, pulled up her pants, adjusted her sweater and ran a hand over her hair.

“Just so I have this clear Topanga, you’re leaving me for imaginary cheating, with – just so we’ve said it enough- Shawn, which is crazy, but you kissed another guy. You’re leaving me for this guy?”

“No,” Topanga said, “I’m not leaving you for this guy, I don’t even like this guy”

“Oh, thank god for that, my wife is only kissing guys she doesn’t like!”

***

“And from there we just had the same argument over and over again until she left,” Cory told Shawn as the two boys lay on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table, which was littered with half a dozen open and mostly eaten containers of Chinese food.

“What happened to the plates?” Shawn asked. There was a pile of broken plates lying in on the kitchen floor.

“Oh yeah,” Cory said, running a hand over his eyes, “That. Well, after she told me that she’d kissed this Dean guy that she doesn’t even like we got had basically the same fight again, just quieter, sadder, you know? We cried more and screamed less. Less almost having sex on the counter too. And then while she packed her suitcase full I asked her if she was going to stay with Dean and she said no, she’d figure something out, maybe go to Eric’s or something, but she had to get out of here and she took off, it was maybe 5 or 6 at night. We fought all day. It was awful. So I was gonna heat something up for dinner and dropped the plate and then I started just taking one plate out of the cupboard at a time and watching them crash on the floor,” Cory told Shawn, miming the action, “And I never got around to cleaning them up.”

Shawn imagined Cory, standing alone in the kitchen, mechanically dropping plate after plate onto the floor.

“Cor?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you in love with me?” Shawn asked, “Cause, Topanga… must have picked up on something, and Margot… might have said something too.”

“No!” Cory responded, “I’m not… you know. I’m _married_. I’ve always been married. Or, I was married,” Shawn watched the implications of that sentence start to slide into place in Cory’s head, and then watched Cory interrupt his own thought before it sunk in and he had to deal with it, “You’re my best friend, but that’s it, and I’m starting to think that it’s all this New York pollution making every one crazy and making everyone think everyone is… you know. Not that there’s anything wrong with that because its… wait-” Cory interrupted his own rant and turned to Shawn, “You’re not in love with me are you?”

“No,” Shawn told him instantly, “Sorry.”

“You’re not… you know… are you? Cause, you know, I’d love you anyway, not like, in a _love_ sort of way but in a you know, like we are now sort of love way.”

“Thanks, Cor, but no I’m not either.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They sat on the couch in silence for a little while longer.

“Should we hug now?” Cory asked eventually.

“Yeah,” Shawn responded, “Let’s hug and then go watch Die Hard in your room.”

“Kay,” Cory said, “Now- don’t judge me, but I’m very depressed and I’m going to finish the Chow-Mein and the Fried Rice, and I’m going to do it in bed.”

Shawn smiled at him. They stood up, hugged, then gathered up the remaining take-out and brought it into the bedroom with them. Shawn fell asleep as the opening credits were rolling, and woke up hours later, freezing cold, to see the dark room bathed in creepy blue light from the screen. He got up to turn off the TV, and then burrowed underneath the covers, which were just as imbued with the scent of Topanga and he’d imagined they would be.

When Shawn’s cell phone alarm sounded from the living room in the morning he discovered that Cory had wormed his way under the covers at some point during the night, and wriggled his body all the way up against Shawn’s. In his sleep Shawn had thrown one arm over Cory.

Today, Sunday, was Shawn’s day off. He spent it with Cory, and neither of them talked about Topanga, the discussion they’d had last night, or the way they’d woken up.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The first week with Topanga gone passed slowly, with Shawn constantly braced, awaiting Cory’s inevitable mental breakdown. Shawn had gone to work on Monday, told Margot and John as little as possible about what had happened between Cory and Topanga, and even less about what had happened between him and Cory. He’d come home to find Cory, seemingly fine, in the living room, and dinner on the stove. They’d hung out for a while, then put in another movie in Cory’s room and fallen asleep under the covers this time. Shawn noticed the faint lilac smell of Topanga had been totally obliterated by the smell of Tide tonight.

Thursday afternoon Shawn got home to find Cory gone, and spent half an hour freaking out. He called Cory, who didn’t answer his phone. He called Eric, and then had to create a story about why when it became clear that Eric didn’t know about Cory and Topanga’s fall out yet. Then he called Cory again. He was about to call Topanga, just in case, when he found the note of Cory’s that had fallen on the kitchen floor.

_Went out on the job hunt again, be back after 5._

When Cory got home Shawn pretended he’d found the note right away, and didn’t mention the mania he’d gone into trying to track Cory down. After dinner Margot called to invite Shawn and Cory along to the late movie that she was going to with Agnes. Cory seemed really excited about the idea, so Shawn took him out. The movie was good, the company was good, and Shawn simply ignored the couple of questioning looks that Margot shot him. Then they went home and, without even the pretense of falling asleep there because they were already there, crawled into bed together, falling asleep on separate sides only to wake up entwined in the middle. And life progressed in pretty much the same fashion for the next week. Cory was too fine, and Shawn was too worried about him.

Thursday of the second week since Topanga had left, Cory got hired at an Italian restaurant in the neighborhood and he and Shawn went out to celebrate with Agnes and Margot.

When Margot talked Cory into abandoning his regular pear cider in favor of something called a “Leg Spreader”, Shawn prepared for the evening to go south in a hurry. The only time Shawn had ever seen Cory drink hard liquor was that one night in high school, when, too depressed over losing Topanga to stand himself anymore, Cory had stolen a bottle of his father’s whiskey, and split it with Shawn. The change didn’t bode well.

Not just braced for, but wholly expecting that he would need to physically carry a drunk, sobbing Cory home from here, Shawn was about to order another beer that he hadn’t tried, but his table full of jubilant friends were all ordering drinks with dirty names and they pestered Shawn until he joined in. So Shawn sat, cautiously sipping his “After Sex”, watching Cory, and waiting for the break down.

But Cory remained pleasant, even chipper, as he continued to chat animatedly with the entire table and then, giggling like junior high kid, ordered something called a “Tie Me to the Bedpost” and persuaded Shawn to get one too. This turned out to be almost entirely alcohol.

Around midnight the four celebrants began their stumble home. A couple of paces in front of Shawn and Margot, Agnes was loudly explaining to Cory all of the things his sun sign said about him and Cory was punctuating all of her sentences with a boyish giggle.

“He seems… giddy,” Margot commented quietly to Shawn.

“Yeah…” Shawn agreed hesitantly, “He’s been, weirdly calm lately.”

“Huh,” Margot replied. She gave him one of her sidelong looks, “So, when are you going to manage a smile tonight?”

“What?” Shawn asked, distractedly.

Margot reached out and squeezed the base of the back of his neck, “Do you feel how tense you are? You’re like… Peter Parker just waiting for Green Goblin to attack a city function.”

“Peter Parker?” Shawn asked bemusedly, shifting his eyes from Cory to Margot for the first time that night.

“Yeah, Shawnie,” she let the nickname she’d learned tonight drip out of her mouth teasingly, “You know, making sure he can get to a phone booth to change in time to save Mary Jane,” she wagged her eyes suggestively in Cory’s direction.

“You’re drunk,” Shawn rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” She laughed her throaty laugh, “A “Vanilla Sex” and a… what was it, a “Buttery Nipple” will do that to you, but it seems like you’re the one who needs a “Long Slow Screw”,” She squeezed her fingers gently into his neck again and laughed. He playfully bumped her in the side with his elbow, causing her to stumble. She stuck her tongue out at him as she regained her balance.

They reached the corner where their paths diverged. Drunken hugs were exchanged and as Margot gave Shawn a goodbye peck on the cheek he said to her, “You know it’s Superman that changes in phone booths”.

“Whatever, Shawnie,” She’d replied.

Cory and Shawn’s conversation on the way back to their apartment was pretty much a replay of Cory’s earlier “I’m-so-happy-I-finally-got-a-job” celebration, with Shawn “good for you-ing” whenever appropriate and Cory drunkenly tripping over things like the curb, the cracks in the sidewalk, and his own feet.

“Margot’s really cute,” Cory commented as they reached their front door, “Does she always kiss you goodbye?” He tried to nudge Shawn and missed.

“Eh, she’s an affectionate drunk,” Shawn sighed as he unwound his scarf from his neck.

“Are you okay?” Cory asked, struggling to unbutton his coat.

“What?” Shawn looked up from his own coat buttons, “Yeah, I’m… why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Cory slurred, “You’ve just seemed, like, edgy lately. I thought maybe something was wrong, but you didn’t want to tell me because you think you shouldn’t be sad at me right now,” Cory tried to give him a concerned look which failed to register as anything more than silly because he was trying to unbutton his coat with his mittens still on. Shawn laughed quietly, grabbed one of Cory’s arms and pulled the mitten off, then, did the same on the other side and began to unbutton Cory’s coat.

“Trust me, Cory, I’m fine,” Shawn told him. He began to tug Cory’s coat off of his shoulders, before realizing that he was standing close enough to smell the alcohol on Cory’s breath, and that this was one of those things that they did that made people… make stupid comments where they confused superheroes. He stepped back away from Cory and went back to taking off his own coat as Cory pulled his jacket off with some difficulty.

“Okay, I guess, to be perfectly honest,” Shawn bit his lip, “I’ve been worried about you.”

That could mean a couple different things, he added silently.

“Awww,” Cory said, pulling Shawn into a rib crushing embrace, “Shawnie, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Shawn wasn’t drunk or stupid enough to bring up the Topanga thing now, not when Cory was like this. It wasn’t going to be a big leap, from silly Cory to miserable Cory and if he could just keep him on this side of it until he got him into bed things would be fine.

Shawn heard himself amending that thought to if I can get Cory into bed so he’ll fall asleep, and began regretting his second drink.

Cory eased his way down to the floor of the entry way to untie his shoes, and Shawn went to go use the bathroom first. He peed, with not a little relief, then, feeling rather unsteady, washed his face in cold water and brushed his teeth. Cory had managed to remove both of his shoes by the time Shawn got out of the bathroom, and was sitting on the bed trying to pull off his sweater. Shawn consciously decided not to help Cory undress, and stood outside the bathroom door, exchanging his own sweater for the T-shirt that he slept in and pulling off his jeans. He stumbled a little as he pulled his left leg out of them, then crawled under the covers on his side of the bed.

He watched Cory fail to get his arm out of sweater for a moment before sighing and getting back out of bed.

“Come here, Cor,” he said walking around to the side where Cory was battling his sweater and losing. He grabbed Cory’s shoulder to still him then carefully peeled the sweater off his friend, noting the feeling of discomfort in a place just above his stomach and just below his heart as he did so. Freed, Cory smiled up at him.

“Think, you can manage your pants on your own?” Shawn smirked. Cory rolled his eyes at him and went into the bathroom, managing to get there without tripping once. Shawn returned to his side of the bed. Eventually Cory emerged from the bathroom in a T-shirt and boxers.

“Can I turn the light off?” Shawn asked.

“Sure,” Cory responded, “Just one thing-“

Before Shawn could reply as he planned with an exasperated “what” Cory had landed on top of him, not damagingly, but shockingly. Cory spread himself flat over Shawn’s body and kissed him on the cheek.

Shawn’s heart stopped.

“I just wanted to wish you goodnight Shawn,” He said in a high pitched fake girl’s voice. He was imitating Margot and too drunk to realize it wasn’t funny. Shawn, still pulse-less, pushed him away. Cory rolled off of Shawn, but it became a play-wrestling match. Cory spun himself back around, throwing one leg over Shawn’s hips before Shawn could push him off.

“Cut it out Cory,” Shawn managed to scold in a level tone as he tried to push Cory off of his body again.

“But Shawn, I’m just trying to offer you my couch,” Cory giggled, the lame double entendre not working. Shawn wasn’t really any stronger than Topanga. Cory pushed through his protesting arms easily and got his own palms on Shawn’s biceps, effectively pinning the smaller boy against the bed.

“Get off of me, Cory,” Shawn warned. Cory was straddled over him, both of them in just their boxers and as Shawn struggled against him the panic began. His heartbeat wasn’t the only thing he could feel rising. And Cory’s innocent smile began to fade.

“Oh, no, Shawn,” Cory started, and Shawn felt tears starting, “Oh no.”

Then Cory grabbed his stomach, toppled off of Shawn and ran for the bathroom. To the sound of Cory throwing up, Shawn threw the bed sheets over his head and desperately pulled a few steadying breaths in. Then he wobbled to the bathroom where Cory was hanging expectantly over the toilet.

“Better?” Shawn asked.

Cory didn’t respond, and after a moment he threw up again. Shawn sat on the tub edge and patted his friend’s back until Cory seemed sure that he was done. He brushed his teeth.

“Ugh. I hate throwing up,” Cory sighed as he and Shawn went back to bed.

“Well it serves you right for being a jerk and thinking you can wrestle,” Shawn sneered with complete annoyance.

“Well, maybe if Margot didn’t luuurrve you,” Cory teased as he pulled his covers up to his neck.

“Shut up, Cory,” Shawn said.

“Love you too, Shawn.”

Cory and Shawn rolled over to face opposite sides. As Shawn waited for Cory to fall asleep he worked out what he was going to tell Margot at work the next day, which was pretty much everything, and when the sound of Cory’s breathing had steadied and deepened, Shawn let himself cry.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Cory’s blow out happened the next day, which, all things considered, was completely unfair.

After nearly two weeks of constant vigilance, Cory chose the _one day_ when Shawn was more wrapped up in his own problems than in his best friend’s to swan dive off the deep end.

Shawn woke up really late that day, a little past noon, and extricated himself carefully from Cory’s arms so as not to wake him. Shawn cleaned up, bolted down some leftover pizza for breakfast and went to work. He took his break earlier than usual so that he could go outside with Margot. There was an unspoken agreement that it would be a long break and since it wasn’t that busy and Agnes was at the counter, it didn’t matter. Shawn and Margot pulled flattened cardboard boxes out of the recycling and slid them up to the alley wall so that they could sit down without sitting in the snow.

Shawn was on his second cigarette in five minutes before he worked up the courage to tell her the story. He’d given up this morning and bought his own pack. Unable to remember what brand he’d been bumming from his coworkers, he wound up with menthol Virginia Slims. This was not helping matters.

“What!” Margot yelled after Shawn had stammered out the story. He shushed her in a panic before she pointed out that they were the only ones in the alley, and you practically had to yell over the traffic noise anyway.

“So he threw himself on top of you, kissed you and then the liquor hit him and he had to barf, which thanking the Lord of Hosts, distracted him from the fact that you were getting a happy on this whole thing?”

“Do girls really say “getting a happy”?” Shawn deflected.

“My cousin Therese, who taught me everything I knew about sex when I was 13, always said “got a happy”. Her other favorite phrase was “licking the lovepop” which I have never actually repeated until now, but back to you,” Margot rushed, “What are you gonna do?”

“Do? What am I going to do? Go after my best friend, who is still married, after he was just walked out on by his wife, who was mad at him about his relationship with me, which is what started this whole awful thing?”

“Actually I was expecting you to go back to work, charm the next cute girl to walk in, finally get laid, and not worry about it as much.”

Shawn took a deep embarrassed drag from his pointless cigarette, “I suppose I could do that.”

“Yeah, man. Friction is friction,” Margot philosophized, “Maybe you’re reading way too much into this.”

“You really think so?”

“No,” Margot said apologetically blowing out a tail of smoke, “What I really think is that you want to go back to the bed you share with your secret love and have lots of sex and babies. Have you ever been with a guy before?” Somehow when Margot asked questions like this you answered them. Maybe it was the way she seemed genuinely concerned and totally unable to pass judgment. Maybe it was the fact that you’d never been asked before.

“There was this one time in high school,” Shawn responded quietly.

“Do tell,” Margot said, “And please let this be a sweaty locker room story.”

“No!” Shawn responded instantly, “Not _with a guy_ with a guy. Once in high school, Cory and Topanga dressed me up in a skirt and heels and I went out with this hockey player.”

Margot didn’t even gather up a response. She just stared.

“It was for the school paper.”

She didn’t break the stare.

“Fuck.” Shawn answered her look, “And there was this one time, the last time I saw him drunk actually, where- well, nothing _actually_ happened, but it was pretty intense, and-” Shawn continued in the horror of remembrance, “This one time, with Angela, where I called out his name.”

A little bit of pity crept into Margot’s disbelieving stare. Shawn leaned her head on his shoulder, “How did I not see this coming?” he asked in bewilderment.

Margot wrapped her free arm around his waist, “So what are you going to do?”

Shawn took another drag and took a moment before he answered, “I can’t say anything to him.”

“Didn’t you already talk to him about his? You said you asked him if he was in love with you when you went back home a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yeah, and he said he wasn’t.”

  
“You told him you weren’t either though Shawn.”

“I know, but it’s different. I can’t talk to him about it now. It’s… it’s like it’s a real thing now. Before it was like this thing that Topanga had made up you know? I can’t say anything to him. He’ll freak out.”

“I’m sure he won’t freak out,” Margot said, “Even if he’s not, _in love_ with you, he loves you.”

“Yeah, you don’t know Cory,” Shawn scoffed, “He doesn’t do change well. Back in Philadelphia, when we started college he freaked out the first week and moved to Jackson Hole with an old high school teacher. He also has some… old fashioned ideas about certain things. It took him months to be able to walk into the co-ed bathroom in our dorm.

“This is different, hon,” Margot said.        

“I know,” Shawn sighed, “This is so much worse than anything. Ever. This is so much worse than if… he,” Shawn had trouble with the pronoun, “doesn’t feel the same. What if he blames me for Topanga leaving? You know what? He should blame me. This is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault Topanga left,” Margot told him, with the closest thing to a stern tone that Shawn had ever heard from her, “It doesn’t sound like it’s really anyone’s fault. I mean, it’s terrible and none of you are innocent, but no one is really to blame. And I think that you are forgetting that something was going on that made Topanga leave.”

“Yeah, which brings us back to blaming me,” Shawn sighed, “I’m not going to say anything, it’s too much, it’s too soon, it’s too dangerous.”

“So you’re going to wake up in his arms and ignore the fact you love him, and let part of yourself hope that he and his wife work things out?” Margot asked.

Shawn didn’t answer.

“Well, your poetry will probably get better,” Margot sighed, “You’re going to lose your mind and hang yourself from the window sill with a bed sheet, but your posthumous publications will inspire masses.”

Shawn laughed mirthlessly, stubbed his fourth cigarette out in the snow and he and Margot went back to work.

Cory was gone when Shawn got home from work. About half an hour after their usual dinner time, Shawn heated up some leftovers for himself and started to worry. He checked back over the apartment again and noticed the little things that were missing, some living room knick-knacks, some movies, all of the picture frames.

His first thought was that someone had broken in, but the twenty that Shawn had left in the change dish for Cory to get groceries with was still there. Nothing had been forced, nothing worth taking had been stolen.

Topanga.

She must have come back for some of her stuff. And Cory would’ve have been here and freaked out, or come back and figured it out and then freaked out.

Shawn called Cory. The call went straight to voice mail. Shawn called Eric again and gave him the exact story he’d made up last time. Eric hadn’t seen Cory, still hadn’t heard about Cory and Topanga, and was busy helping pick up his apartment for a party that night. Apparently his photographer roommate was having some sort of party. Models seemed to figure largely in the plans. Shawn called Cory again, and when the call went straight to voice mail again, Shawn called Topanga.

“Hello Shawn,” She answered coolly.

“Hey, did you drop by to pick anything up from our apartment today?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I can’t find Cory.”

“Well I don’t know where he is Shawn. That’s your department.”

“Did he… did he flip out at all while you were there? Maybe give any indication that flipping out was imminent?”

“No,” Topanga’s voice got colder, “He seemed perfectly all right. And not just “all right” for Cory either. He seemed all right like a normal person might be. He helped me carry a box to my cab,” then her voice got frigid, “I noticed your pajamas on our bedroom floor. And your blankets on the bed.”

“Topanga-“ Shawn started.

“Didn’t take long, did it Shawn?”

She hung up on him and he couldn’t even manage to be upset with her for it. He began to panic. It was nine o’clock at night. Cory wasn’t answering Shawn’s calls, Topanga had been here today and had… noticed and interpreted things. Worst case scenarios flew through his mind.

He called Margot. She came over and sat with him, painstakingly working her way through a kid’s “Learn to Draw Aliens!” book and trying to cheer Shawn up with her, rather pathetic, attempts as the clock ticked past ten, then eleven. At 11:30 Shawn had Margot call Cory to see if maybe he’d turned his phone back on and if he’d answer her call if not Shawn’s. Nothing.

By three o’clock Margot had fallen asleep on the couch that had been Shawn’s and Shawn was dozing fitfully in the chair. His phone rang and he answered it immediately.

“Hello? Cory?”

It wasn’t Cory, it was Topanga. Cory had been picked up in a neighborhood a couple trains away from theirs. Someone had called in to report a young man going around to all the apartment buildings in the neighborhood and trying to buzz up to every room. The police had collected Cory, stone drunk, and brought him back to the station to keep him from freezing to death, which wouldn’t be hard to do on a night like tonight. They’d called Topanga and Topanga had called Shawn.

“I knew you’d be worried,” she told him.

“Thank you, Topanga,” Shawn said, “I appreciate it. I know you didn’t have to call me.”

“Goodnight.”

There was nothing they could do until Cory was released from detox in the morning.

“It’s really too cold on the couch anyway,” Shawn mumbled as the justification for sharing the bed as he and Margot both crawled fully dressed under the covers.

 

**

“Hey Shawnie, you came to spring me,” Cory smiled wanly at him the next morning.

“Yeah,” Shawn grinned, “Who would have thought that I would ever be the one getting you out of jail.”

“Yeah.”

All charges were dropped. The officer who had brought Cory in had been left by his wife last year, knew how hard it could be, and had strongly advised that, since Cory had come along quietly, even gratefully, that they didn’t contribute to a repeat performance by burdening him with a thousand dollars worth of fines.

So the only major consequence of Cory’s night turned out to be a vicious hangover. The first train back was a long ride, made unbearably longer by Cory’s nearly constant up-chucking into one of the big plastic garbage bags someone at the station had given them.

The second train was not going to happen. Better to be out in the fresh, cold air than in the subway. Cory kept his eyes shut against the bright sun and the pounding headache. All he managed to say this entire journey home was one more bewildered, “I can’t believe I was in jail.” Shawn led Cory home like a seeing-eye dog, one arm around his waist for the entire trek home, slowly pushing him along, stopping him at corners, and steering him away from people the one last time that Cory had to throw up.

When they reached their block, Shawn leaned Cory against a lamppost and bought a Dr. Pepper and a Snickers at a newsstand.

“Damn good hangover cure,” He said to Cory in the gruff voice he used to imitate his father.

Cory went to lie down immediately when the boys reached the apartment and Shawn turned to Margot, who was standing in the fridge sniffing the milk.

“Listen, I’ve got a big huge favor to ask-”

“What else is new, babe?”

“I know it’s your day off, but could you please, please take my shift so I can stay here with him?”

“Shawn…”

“Please.”

“Tell you what, how about you go and take your own shift, because you know you can’t really afford to miss any more work, and I’ll take my day off here. I can watch Cory. I’ve got a book I’ve been waiting all week for, and he’ll probably sleep all day anyway.”

“Okay, just don’t make it sound like I thought he needed to be, you know, baby-sat.”

“I won’t. I won’t tell him any of the things you don’t want him to know.”

Shawn gave her an exasperated look that that she returned with a sardonic smile, grabbed his coat and went to work.

 

***

It was long past four in the afternoon when Cory finally emerged from the bedroom.

“Heya,” Margot greeted him, “How you feeling?”

“Like I just… you know I can’t even think of anything. Fucking awful,” Cory responded.

“Shawn told me to give you the Snickers and Dr. Pepper in the fridge when you woke up.”

Cory retrieved both item and sat down on the couch, briefly pressing the cold Dr. Pepper bottle to his face.

“Did he leave you here to watch me?”

“Yes. But I’m supposed to pretend he didn’t,” Margot said evenly, “So do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Cory replied.

“About whatever made you flip out yesterday,” Margot clarified.

“No,” Cory said, “No offence, you’re… a swell girl, but I just don’t-”

“Got it. No worries,” Margot said with a smile, “You just met me, we don’t have to have this conversation. Just thought I’d ask, you know, in case.”

“Thanks.”

Cory finished his candy bar and washed it down with the last of his soda.

“Did you stay here last night?” Cory asked her.

“Yeah, man. Shawn was really worried about you, he didn’t want to be alone.”

“Are you two… together?”

“Together?” Margot scoffed, “No. Big no.”

“So you came over to stay with him when he was worried last night, and you gave up your day off to sit with his stupid hung over friend, but you aren’t together? Why not?”

Margot sighed, “Look, Cory, to tell you the truth… which you cannot tell him- You’re right. I like Shawn okay? But he’s not into me.”

“Margot, he talks about you all the time, he calls you all the time, you get along really well. Maybe there’s a little… you know something there.”

“ Just friends Cory. Really.”

“But there’s sexual tension, am I right?” Cory wheedled.

“Nope, just a one-sided crush,” She paused, “You really want him to be happy don’t you?”

“I want good things for him. He’s been alone for too long.”

“It’s a good thing he has you, yeah?” Margot gave Cory a sad sort of smile, “And that you have him.”

“And always have.”

“I think I’m going to head out,” Margot said, “Do you promise not to leave and get me in trouble with Shawn?”

“Ugh,” Cory grabbed his stomach, “It’s not like I’d get far.”

Margot gathered up her stuff, which had managed to spread pretty far in the last day, and left, patting Cory on the head before she went, “Don’t say anything to Shawn okay?”

“Fine,” Cory agreed.

“Thanks, big guy,” She grinned, kissed him on the top of the head and left.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Cory was on the couch with a sandwich and a plateful of chips when Shawn got home.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Shawn asked.

“Better,” Cory replied, “A lot better. I haven’t been nauseous for a few hours now.”

“Nice,” Shawn smiled plopping down on the couch next to Cory and yoinking a chip off of his plate, “So what happened to you yesterday?”

“Geez, I thought you’d at least ease into asking,” Cory set the plate down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I go up three hours early to take two trains, pick you up from a police station and carry you half-way home and I’m just gonna let you work your way up to telling me what the hell happened.”

           “Fine,” Cory groaned, “It wasn’t Topanga you know. I’m sure you thought it was, but it wasn’t”

“No, I know,” Shawn told him, “I called her yesterday when I was looking for you. She said you seemed all right.”

“You called Topanga?”

“Yeah. Then when the police called her, she called me. That’s how I knew where to get you this morning.”

“Oh,” Cory said, “I had them call Topanga?”

“I don’t know man.”

“Well, neither do I, I guess,” Cory shrugged, “Last night’s a total blur. I don’t remember getting on the subway. I remember deciding that I was going to go find this Dean jackass and… do something, but I don’t remember what. The last thing I do remember was telling this girl, this cute brunette, that I really wanted to get my wife back for kissing some other guy. I think I tried to kiss her,” he shrugged again, “I freaked out.”

“Yeah, you did, but you’ve…” Shawn laid his arm across Cory’s back and squeezed his shoulder. It was so warm, “It’s been a rough couple weeks, Cor.”

“No. It hasn’t. Not really. That was the problem,” Cory sighed, “My mom called right after Topanga left yesterday. Topanga called her last week. Told her that we… that things were bad, that it didn’t sound like we were going to fix them. That I hadn’t tried to fix them.”

“That’s harsh, man.”

“No. It’s not. I hadn’t talked to Topanga since she left. Since we fought. I should have realized that maybe if I’d called her, you know, made any sort of effort to talk to her….” He paused and ate a chip contemplatively, “Anyway, so mom asked me what I was going to do after the… divorce. And I was like- oh my god I’m getting divorced, even though I knew that’s what was going to happen. And then Mom asked me if I was going to come home to Philly.”

“Oh.” Shawn responded, dumbfounded. That hadn’t even occurred to him, “Oh.”

“I mean… I could. I could go to Philly,” Cory sounded overwhelmed, “I could go… anywhere now. I can… I can do anything I want Shawnie. I’m just… me now. And that’s what got me,” He laughed, a short sharp exhalation of breath, “This crazy independence dropped into my lap. So I freaked out. I left the apartment, I went to the bar, I was only going to have one drink, but then I over did it… and… yeah.”

They sat in silence for a second, finishing off the chips on the plate between them. Shawn’s hand still gripped Cory’s shoulder.

“Margot has a crush on you,” Cory said, finally breaking the silence.

“No she doesn’t,” Shawn responded, letting go of Cory and returning his hand to his side.

“Yeah. Right,” Cory rolled his eyes, “When was the last time we went more than a day without seeing her?”

Shawn sighed deeply, “Cory, trust me, Margot and I? Not going to happen.”

Cory turned serious, “Why not Shawn? She’s really great. I mean really. She’s sweet, she’s fun, and she cares about you so much. It’s so obvious.”

“Yeah, she’s great Cory. She’s a great girl. She’s a great friend. She doesn’t like me.”

“See, before she left she told me she thinks that you don’t like her.”

“Well,” Shawn sighed, “I don’t.”

“Well, maybe you should give her a chance Shawn. It’s been months since Angela left and you haven’t shown any interest in anyone. And I…” Cory’s hand slipped from his own thigh to cover Shawn’s hand, “I really want you to have someone. You should have someone in your bed other than me,” Cory’s brain seemed to catch up with his mouth, “Or better yet, you should be sleeping in someone’s bed other than mine.”

Shawn’s hand burned under Cory’s and he looked up from their almost entwined fingers into Cory’s big, sincere, concerned eyes. He swallowed hard.

“I know,” he managed. He cleared his throat, “So. Are you going to go home?”

“I don’t know,” Cory sighed, not moving his hand, “It’s so expensive here, and loud, and there’s no guarantee that I’m going to keep this restaurant job. If I went home I could go back to school, but I was looking into NYU for the spring anyway. I don’t know.”

“If you went home,” Shawn started. Painfully slowly he began to turn his palm upward into Cory’s palm, “I’d go with you.”

“Topanga asked me why you’re sleeping in my bed,” Cory said. Shawn stopped moving his hand.

“What did you tell her?” Shawn asked, feeling as though all of the saliva had dried out of his mouth.

“That it’s big enough for two. That it’s silly for me to be alone in this huge bed while you’re shivering on the couch.”

“Yeah,” Shawn nodded, “That’s what I told Margot.”

Cory pulled his hand off of Shawn’s and returned to his sandwich. Shawn quickly pulled his hand into his own lap.

“Do you want me to go back to sleeping on the couch?” Shawn asked.

“No,” Cory responded, “I’m cold in that bed alone too,” he paused, “Although we could probably put a pillow or something down the middle. I move a lot in my sleep. You must be sick of me rolling into you all night.”

“Phh. I’m such a heavy sleeper I don’t even notice,” Shawn said. His voice sounded hollow in his head, but Cory didn’t seem to have noticed. Shawn had been battered around as much as he could take for tonight. He faked yawn, “I’m actually going to turn in now.”

“Yeah, I bet you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” Cory sighed, “Sorry about that.”

“Well, you’re all right now,” Shawn couldn’t stop himself, he planted a kiss on Cory’s temple before he stood, “Night,Cor.”

“Night, Shawn.”

 

***

Shawn awoke lying on his back in the middle of the bed. Cory lay next to him, on his side, with one arm draped over Shawn’s chest. He’d been having a dream, the kind where you don’t know what you’re running from but you’re running and running and running from something that’s always about to catch you. In the dream, he’d been ducking through a dark forest, and had woken at the moment he crashed chest first into a low branch.

Shawn looked sadly from Cory’s arm, to Cory’s peaceful face, to the ceiling. He sucked in a breath and slid just a little ways down his pillow. He rolled onto his side, face to face with Cory, still under his arm.

Cory’s breath was audible, not a snore but a rasp, rhythmically in and out. Shawn put his hand on Cory’s forearm and ran it up the skin of his bicep, over his collar-bone, his neck, and his jaw, reflecting how weird it was to do this to someone with facial hair. Though, he laughed silently, he’d been ordered to kiss more than one hairy cheeked aunt goodbye before. Shawn lay there, holding Cory’s cheek, listening to him breathe. His finger tips brushed against the soft skin at the outside corner of Cory’s eye.

Then a thought occurred to Shawn. He wriggled his body as cautiously as he could against Cory’s, until they were nose to nose. Then, softly, Shawn pressed his lips against Cory’s. They were warm, and tasted like toothpaste. Shawn shuddered. He shouldn’t be doing this, this was too weird, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it once more, just as softly.

“Shawn?”

Shawn felt his blood go cold and his heart kick into overdrive.

“What are you doing?” Cory asked him sleepily. Shawn couldn’t even reply. Cory’s eyes opened, peering into Shawn’s, “Shawnie?” he asked, clearly awake now, aware of how close their bodies, their faces, were.

“Did I,” Cory started, “Did I kiss you?”

“No,” Shawn whispered, “I kissed you, Cor.”

“Oh,” Cory said. But he didn’t let him go, “Okay.”

They lay there together for a little bit longer, not moving. Shawn was wide eyed, unable to bring himself to pull away from Cory and Cory strangely calm for Cory. Cory seemed to reach a decision.

“Let’s just talk about this in the morning okay?” Cory said. Shawn nodded, still too much of a lump in his throat to speak, regretting his stupid, creepy compulsion toward inappropriate roommate touching.

Then Cory kissed him, “Because you know us. If we try and talk about it now we’ll just fuck it up again.”

Cory kissed Shawn again and it took a couple a seconds before Shawn had absorbed enough of the shock to be able to respond.

It was an anxious sort of kiss. Clear as far as the big picture was concerned, but uncertain in the details. Cory shifted his weight, pressing down onto Shawn’s body and Shawn found himself, for the first time since he was thirteen, unsure of where to put his hands. It was like learning a different way to swim. Finally mastering the breast stroke and moving onto the butterfly. But he was almost thankful for the awkwardness. In his dreams this was always soft-focus, effortless, easy, but trying to figure out a way to kiss around the beard, and what to grope with the obvious lacking, felt real. The newness of this was completely theirs, something that would always belong to Cory-and-Shawn, reinventing the wheel only for themselves. And as sighing turned to gasping and body and blood and nearly a year of waiting took over for the mind, Shawn briefly wondered what they would actually say to each other in the morning, but didn’t seem to matter very much.

Shawn woke up with Cory in his arms, their T-shirt flung somewhere on the other side of the room, boxers still on. Cory’s phone was ringing on the night stand. He rolled far enough to grab it and turned it off.

“Who was it?” Shawn whispered groggily.

“It’s my alarm,” Cory replied, “First day of work today.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, kissing the back of his neck, “So you can’t be late.”

Cory chuckled quietly, “No, probably not.”

He climbed out of bed, and hopped in the shower. Shawn dozed off again and awoke to Cory, fully dressed, kissing him goodbye.

“Have a good day at work dear,” Shawn grinned, “I’ll have dinner on the table for you when you get home.”

Cory laughed, “Great. Even more to look forward to.”

He kissed Shawn again and left for work. Shawn took a long shower, put on clean clothes, and then, only feeling a little bit silly about it, sat in the sunny, if somewhat chilly kitchen and wrote poetry all day. Poetry about silly things like sunlight and snowflakes and daisies and true love. It was all awful, and he liked it anyway.

 

 


End file.
